


Cour d'Amours

by inianuae



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Dorothea/Yuri/marauding polycule, Dorothea/Yuri/the means of production, Dorothea/Yuri/whoever they want, F/F, F/M, Happy Ending, Multi, Other, Partners in Crime, Post-Canon, Post-Timeskip | War Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Post-War, The Highwomen but make it fashion, Yurithea, be gay do crime, no beta we die like Glenn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-19
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-15 18:56:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29563635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inianuae/pseuds/inianuae
Summary: Dorothea and Yuri travel across postwar Fódlan with their new, democratized opera troupe, distributing aid to the destitute and revolutionizing the performing arts--but they are followed everywhere by disturbing rumors that their roving band of players is engaged in (gasp!) sinister doings. Our arts correspondent reports:
Relationships: Dorothea Arnault/Yuris Leclair | Yuri Leclerc, implied Dorothea Arnault/Yuris Leclair | Yuri Leclerc/Ingrid Brandl Galatea
Comments: 4
Kudos: 6





	Cour d'Amours

Wild rumors have dogged the Songbird Free Opera Company’s traveling troupe for years.

They are, of course, phenomenally popular; they have, of course, indelibly revolutionized the performing arts in Fódlan, bringing the rarefied operatic tradition, once an exclusive abode of the elite, to the delighted ears and eyes of everyday people. In the critical reconstruction period for a culture reeling from years of war—amid comprehensive reforms of religious life, a reorganization of the class structure across the continent, new contacts with distant nations and their goods and ideas and aesthetics—it is inarguable that the Songbird Company’s influence, as they adapt forms once designed for grand opera houses like the Mittelfrank of Enbarr into forms that could travel, city to city, town to town, to be produced not only for the nobility but for all who might appreciate the art, has been anything but instrumental in promoting the best of those societal changes.

From uplifting characters who exemplify new heroic virtues, to telling tales that help the people come to terms with the trauma and grief of wartime, to sharing music and stories from Brigid, Almyra, even Dagda and Sreng and Duscur in order to encourage audiences to thrill in cosmopolitan delights rather than fear the foreign, they have joyfully popularized new hopes for Fódlan in ways that armies and churches could not—and done so to rave reviews. What whispers of notoriety follow them have—so far—only increased their mystique, rather than painting them as dangerous to the communities they travel through. Perhaps, in this, it is the vocal patronage of our beloved monarch that offers some protection. Perhaps it is the goodwill they have amassed by sharing their tour routes with relief efforts delivering aid to the displaced and dispossessed everywhere they visit.

Still, the rumors persist. Troubling stories suggest some connection between the troupe and the criminal syndicate of the Savage Mockingbird, even insinuating that they bear financial ties to that shadowy gang. Others claim that wherever the Songbirds go, they gather the disaffected into their storied skirts, sweeping away crafters and artisans, beggars and dreamers in their wake—and that they might account for dozens of young runaways, in dozens of towns, who might otherwise have found an honest profession and a respectable life, such as their parents could be proud of, instead of a path of tents and greasepaint and costumed debauchery. They say some witchcraft might be involved—entrancing songs of a wild demimonde that decent children, virtuous wives, wholesome husbands, were simply unable to resist, prayers to the Saints notwithstanding. 

They say that in towns near the touring routes of the Songbird Company, once-powerful nobles tremble in their beds--that a baron cruelly accused of corruption was conned out of half his fortune by a glamorous lord and lady who came from nowhere with honeyed promises only to vanish in the night—or that it was a pair of ladies, each more beautiful than the other, who laughingly robbed the carriage of a duke known, according to vicious slander, for squeezing the commonfolk of his territory with heavy taxes, just when he was set to move his strongboxes—or that it was a miser of a count, plagued by whispers of his violence toward his household staff, who lost every ounce of gold and every scrap of clothing in his citadel to a daring heist led by a duo of graceful swashbucklers whose swords danced like lightning.

They say that, not long after, mysterious events spread across the countryside: orphanages and schools with coffers full, though no one saw anyone leave or enter nor could account for where the coin came from. A whole shipment of Gronder grain gone missing months prior, distributed to every grange hall in Galatea territory without a word of explanation. A county in Leicester struck by plague, visited in the night by healers of improbable loveliness who went from one bedside to the next, magic in their hands and on their painted lips, only to disappear without any mention of reward. They say, in some tellings, that these miracle workers stayed to sing each and every afflicted child to sleep, which, of course, cannot be any truer than folktales of St. Cethleann visiting the houses of every fisherman in Adrestia in a single night—but children do exaggerate, and all manner of thing might be imagined in the throes of fever.

Tales are told of peculiar wonders worked by the troupe itself—that during their series of summer performances near the Oghma Mountains, wild birds from the forest joined in the players' harmonies, and that when they visited Nuvelle the following winter, the spectacular light show accompanying their repertory revue concluded with, of all things, the audience’s hats transformed into confectionery.

Regardless of the veracity of these stories, none can argue that the Songbird Company’s unprecedented success has not also given the continent myriad gifts—not least a series of truly transcendent performances by the inimitable Dorothea Arnault, whose meteoric rise to fame as the Mystical Songstress in prewar Enbarr once seemed doomed by her youthful retirement from the stage in 1180. Though her years away from the opera were devoted to noble pursuits—both as a war hero and, in the immediate aftermath of the fighting, in wholehearted service to the downtrodden most affected by those five violent years of upheaval—many shared concerns that her timbre may have suffered by lack of practice. Not so: in fact, her skill seems only to have deepened with maturity, her range broadened, her portrayals more profound. She has been hailed as the voice of the people’s grief, and of their recovery.

Since founding the Songbird Free Opera Company in 1188, her reborn career has been graced by collaborations with with some of the continent's most celebrated artists—from a spellbinding series of guest performances by the Mittelfrank Company’s legendary Manuela Casagranda to the debut of new songs from Fhirdiad’s own Annette Dominic, acclaimed for her catchy tunes and enigmatic lyrical stylings—and enjoyed the patronage of influential friends. It is said that the reclusive Countess Varley commissioned a special box seat and never misses a performance when the troupe visits, and that their travels through eastern Faerghus are nearly always escorted by a weather-worn but elegant knight on pegasusback who can only be Lady Galatea—rumored to join the troupe for lavish dinners and stay until morning.

Miss Arnault’s close companionship with her constant collaborator, Yuri Leclerc, has merited a great deal of gossip; none, however, can fault their counterpoints and close harmonies on stages far and wide. And by all accounts, according to those closest to the beloved diva, she has never been happier.

**Author's Note:**

> Like any red-blooded lesbian, I ship Dorothea with whatever lady is going to make her happy, and I did not expect to like her endings with any of the men in the cast. But 1. her whole support chain with Yuri is really queer, and hinges on Yuri's complicated relationship with gender and femininity in ways that most of Yuri's supports don't touch on, 2. it really is one of her happiest, most healing endings, and 3. these two femmes are really good together, okay. 
> 
> They both use glamorously confident facades to mask deep sensitivity, devotion to the people under their care, and desire to help children like the destitute orphans they once were, and they help each other heal old traumas. Rather than going back to Mittelfrank and rebuilding her old life with some new people in it or walking away from the opera entirely to focus on governance or battle or marriage, their ending offers a future where Dorothea changes the terms of her hopes entirely--and gets to free her art from war, from the class system, from past exploitation, in order to pursue it on terms that marry her theater life to her life of service to the people who, like her and Yuri, fell through the cracks of society. She gets to bring all of herself. And Yuri gets to pursue aspirations just as far-reaching as the kingpin business, but in a much less brutal way.
> 
> Also, they're really fun to play as a pair of tricksters. Once I got the idea in my head of their traveling commoner-friendly troupe also serving as a cover for a Robin Hood operation where they get to stick it to the nobility and help out the poor and oppressed across the land, I really couldn't let go of it. (Titling it was impossible, though. After running through a whole lot of Queen and Bowie and even a revolutionary songbook or two, I decided to settle on Orff and leave it at that. I think they'd have fun with that whole piece, especially the Dulcissime.)
> 
> Doing it in this super pretentious art-critic voice was just for fun.


End file.
